


Nobody's Perfect

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Derek Hale is Good at Feelings, Established Relationship, Good Boyfriend Derek Hale, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Insecurity, M/M, POV Stiles Stilinski, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23309623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Stiles wants to be good enough for Derek at all costs.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 68
Kudos: 792





	Nobody's Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuchs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuchs/gifts).



> I've had this lying around mostly finished for literally years, and I finally got i polished up and betaed all nice, just in time for Hannah's birthday. You are a beautiful and amazing woman, and I will never stop cursing the world for putting us literally on opposite ends of it. Love you, love your butt. Happy birthday, baby! <3
> 
> Betaed gently by my bro, Rita. You support me like the best Nike jock strap. <3

Dating Derek Hale is pretty much everything Stiles ever imagined it would be. He’d definitely imagined the hot sex, the foreplay-ish arguing, the sass, and the secret marshmallow sides of Derek coming out in private for some epic snuggling sessions. He’d not quite dared to think further than that, but he’s definitely not complaining when he also gets a sincere, generous, romantic partner, whose only real flaws seem to be the mood swings and nightmares. Both of which, Stiles feels, are minor issues considering the boatload of shit life has thrown at Derek in general.

The problem with Derek is that he’s actually too perfect. As much as Stiles smugly brags to anyone who’ll listen that he’s hitting that, secretly he’s genuinely worried that, if Derek ever realizes all the ways Stiles is unworthy of him, he’ll leave.

So Stiles does his best. He tries as hard as he can to be something Derek can be proud of, studying hard in college, working part-time to make money to buy Derek nice things, because Derek deserves all the nice things in the world. Derek also deserves a better person than Stiles, but he’s selfish enough to at least try and see how long he can dupe Derek into thinking he’s worth keeping.

That includes showering and shaving every day, whether Stiles needs it or not. He weeds out all his old and comfy clothes that are full of holes and stains, because even just lounging at home now means Derek might be there and see him. Stiles makes every effort to dial down everything that makes him annoying, and it must work, because Derek seems happy. Happier than he’s been in all the time Stiles has known him, and that’s enough to keep Stiles going, even though he’s really getting sick of sleeping in tight and flattering boxer briefs when his junk would much rather flop freely in his oversized and thin-worn boxers.

But Derek Hale is worth more than that. So Stiles climbs into bed every night shirtless and in his new and hip-hugging underwear, trying to ignore how the covers kinda scratch against his nipples and how he’d really like the fan to be on. But just in case Derek drops in for the night – which he often does – Stiles wants everything to be at its best.

Inevitably, however, something is bound to slip. Stiles wakes up one morning to Derek kissing up his neck, across his cheek and finishing up with a slow and wet frenching, and only when Derek pulls back with a pleased sigh does Stiles remember with horror that he didn’t brush his teeth the night before. He slaps a hand across his mouth and turns away, hoping he didn’t accidentally waft his awful breath across Derek’s sensitive nose.

“God, I’m sorry,” he says, muffled behind his hand, and starts making his way out of the twisted covers with one hand. Which isn’t super easy.

“For what?” Derek asks, and he does not sound awake at all, which gives Stiles a sliver of hope that maybe he will fall back asleep and forget all about it.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be right back.”

“Noooo,” Derek moans, and pulls Stiles back against him with one strong arm. “Don’t go away.”

He starts again with the kissing, but this time it’s on the back of Stiles’ neck, so he keeps very still and hopes it’ll just stay that way. But Derek is clearly in an amorous mood, and his kisses roam further and further until he starts working his way around to the front again. Stiles tries to subtly keep his lips closed, but he’s weak as hell to everything Derek does, and in barely a few pecks he mostly forgets his worries and lets Derek go to town on him, lick into his gross mouth and ease him out of his scratchy boxers. Something his dick is very happy about on many levels.

Afterwards, as he’s lying there in Derek’s arms, sweaty and sated and kinda sleepy, he abruptly remembers his breath again, and burrows his face into Derek’s chest to avoid breathing at him directly. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Derek asks again, this time sounding much more awake, because he’s a weirdo who seems to get more awake from blowing his load.

“Forgot to brush my teeth last night. I guess your morning wood distracted you from it, but don’t worry, I’ll keep my stinky breath away from you until we get up.”

Derek makes a small huff into Stiles’ hair. “Don’t be an idiot, nobody has nice breath in the morning.”

“No, but I feel like you should do at least some damage control when you’ve got a hottie in your bed.”

“Is that a subtle way to tell me you’d like me to brush my teeth before I come to bed?”

Stiles’ head darts up, as he forgets his breath in his hurry to assure Derek that he’s perfect and should never ever change. “No! No, you never smell bad!”

“I do sometimes,” Derek says with a warm little laugh that makes Stiles feel all soft inside.

“No. Never,” Stiles insists, mashing his nose up against Derek’s armpit just to make a point. He does smell a little bit like sour sweat, probably needs a shower soon. But Stiles loves it. Loves to breathe Derek in with everything he is, and he’s having a hard time remembering if there’s ever been an occasion where he didn’t want to get all up in Derek’s business, regardless of his odor.

Derek squirms away, not quite laughing, because he’s not ticklish. Nope. Not even a little bit.

“Stop that. And it might just be my wolf senses, but I promise you, Stiles, everyone smells bad sometimes. It’s fine. It’s human.”

“Still, I should probably-”

“Nope,” Derek cuts him off, locking Stiles in an iron grip that kinda does it for him, if he’s being completely honest. “I didn’t notice your breath at all, but I will notice a lot if you leave right now.”

Which is a fair point, and Stiles decides it’s probably okay. Especially since Derek lays another wet kiss on him, possibly just to prove a point, and before Stiles even realizes it they’re off to round two.

* * *

“Stop squirming,” Derek rumbles next to him, and Stiles forces himself to calm down. It doesn’t last long, however, because his nipples are really killing him. Not in a bad way, per se, because it’s partly due to Derek giving them a lot of love and attention earlier, and now they’re hyper sensitive. Which is making it super hard to sleep.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and rolls onto his back.

Not that it helps. Even after a couple of months of dating Derek, Stiles still isn’t quite used to sleeping like this, and he thinks longingly of his soft, baggy t-shirts and boxers, stuffed into the bottom of his closet. But he has to look his best for Derek, so he subtly tries to move the blanket off his nipples without letting too much cold air in.

It’s not subtle enough, though, and Derek turns around, eyes briefly flashing red in the dark as he uses his senses to see. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just mauled me a little earlier.”

Derek’s hand finds his hip under the covers and strokes the skin gently in apology. “Do you need anything? Cooling gel or something?”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’ll pass. It does every night.”

“Every night?” Derek asks, and Stiles doesn’t need to see his eyebrows to know they’re up.

Stiles shrugs, hoping Derek is too sleepy to question things too much. “It’s fine, I’ve always had sensitive nipples.”

“What do you usually do?”

The question leaves Stiles in a pickle, because if he says he likes to wear a t-shirt Derek will insist he wears one, but all he has now are his nicer shirts. All of which are just a smidge too uncomfortable, and Stiles feels like he might cry if he has to feel them against his sore skin. But if he lies, Derek will definitely know, and while he’s surprisingly forgiving in a lot of ways, lying is one way to guarantee he’ll get upset.

He decides honesty is the way to go, and hopes it’ll buy him enough goodwill that Derek won’t argue when he insists it’s fine.

“Well. I usually sleep in other clothes. But don’t worry about it, this is okay. I’ll get over it.”

It’s quiet for long enough that Stiles starts to think that Lady Luck has smiled upon him and Derek just fell asleep. But then there’s a rustle as he gets out of bed, and Stiles’ gut sinks. Derek must have heard Stiles’ lack of belief in his own words, and now he’s gone away to brood. Maybe he’ll even leave entirely. The thought makes a hot weight drop into Stiles’ gut, and he’s starting to feel truly miserable when he hears Derek rummaging in the closet. So Derek probably went to get him a t-shirt. Which is super nice of him, and Stiles will definitely wear it if it means Derek comes back. It won’t be a fun night, but it’ll be worth it. For Derek.

“Get up,” Derek says next to him, so suddenly that Stiles jumps.

“Excuse me?”

“Up, come on,” Derek says, pulling at his arm, and Stiles sits up, confused.

“No, up,” Derek insists, pulling at Stiles until he’s out of bed and standing. And then yanks his boxer briefs down without even a by your leave. Not that Stiles is unhappy with that as such, but it is a little bit surprising.

“Woah, okay.”

“Shut up. Put these on,” Derek says in a voice that sounds eerily familiar to the old Derek who was always on the defensive and out of his depth, but trying so very hard to make things right, and then shoves a bundle into Stiles’ hands. It’s dark, but Stiles’ fingers can easily feel the worn cotton of one of his sleep-wear combos he’s worn to bed probably since middle school, the fabric so worn and torn that there’s not much dignity preserved, but plenty of comfort offered, both out of familiarity and sensory input.

But they’re horrendously ugly.

“Derek, no.”

“Yes. I know you used to sleep in this. Put it on.”

“But-”

“No. Put them on.”

“I’ll look like a hobo, Derek.”

“So? You need your sleep, and there’s no one here you need to impress.”

Stiles vehemently disagrees, and Derek seems to realize this, taking the bundle out of Stiles’ hands, only to start finding arm holes and guiding Stiles’ arms into them. “No, but-”

“Stiles, shut up. I don’t care how you look. I care that you sleep well and that you’re happy. I know you’ve been trying to impress me, but I figured it would wear off after a while. But you’re such a stubborn asshole.”

“Hey-!”

“You are,” Derek grumbles, forcing Stiles’ head through the neck-hole and easing the shirt down over his chest surprisingly gently, careful of the nipples. “And for some weird reason I like that about you. But this is getting frustrating, and unless you want me to wrestle you into these ratty boxers and possibly rip them, you’ll put them on and go to bed.”

Stiles tries for a few seconds to come up with a valid argument, but honestly he’s feeling a little dumb standing there in a shirt with his dick hanging out, so he takes the boxers and steps into them. “Fine. But you don’t get to comment on their ratty state ever again,” he says, glaring at where he thinks Derek’s eyes are in the dark.

“No problem. Anything else that usually makes it easier for you to sleep? And you better not lie,” Derek adds, just as Stiles is about to fib. Dammit.

“Ugh, fine. I usually have the fan on.”

“Then go set it where you like it and get back in bed. I want to sleep.”

“You have a bed at your place too, you know,” Stiles points out as he fumbles around for the fan switch in the dark.

“My bed doesn’t have you in it,” Derek states matter of factly, and Stiles feels abruptly choked up. Trust stupid perfect Derek Hale to ruin him on a daily basis.

As he crawls back into bed, he expects Derek to stubbornly turn his back and go to sleep to prove his point, but instead he pulls Stiles into his arms, nosing at his neck and breathing him in. “That’s better. These clothes smell happier.”

“Clothes can smell happy?”

“Yes. When the person wearing them has always felt comfortable and happy in them. And these smell like… sleep and comfort. Much better,” he says, voice sounding a little slurred already, as if the smell of old sleep is dragging him under.

Clearly Stiles has been an idiot – more than usual, anyway – but since Derek already seems aware of that and somehow likes him anyway, then Stiles can’t really deny the mounting evidence against his theory that he’s not good enough for Derek. Especially since he keeps claiming he likes Stiles the way he is. And while Derek’s judgment hasn’t always been the best, he seems to believe it wholeheartedly, and Stiles… doesn’t have enough evidence to argue.

So maybe it’s time to trust Derek’s words as much as Stiles trusts him about everything else. It’s gonna take a while, but maybe, over time, Stiles can learn how to accept good things happening to him.

Stiles isn’t even that sleepy, but Derek dropping off in barely a minute is infectious. Plus, the familiar feel of thin, worn cotton against his skin lets him settle properly for the first time in ages, and before long he falls asleep to Derek’s quiet snores against his shoulder.

Because Derek Hale snores.

Nobody’s perfect.

End.


End file.
